


I Could Be the Thing You Reach for in the Middle of the Night

by its_just_us_here



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Hand Job, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, allusion to past dubcon in passing but it's not a major part of the story, sorta smutty but also sweet, these two are the best and i'm obsessed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_just_us_here/pseuds/its_just_us_here
Summary: “Why didn’t anyone tell me the kid had been arrested?” Derek demanded.Emily’s gaze softened. “Reid made a list of people he was willing to see as visitors… you weren’t on it,” she replied.This is what happens when Derek went to check on Reid.(Set vaguely after the events of the latest season; the only spoiler is that Reid was in jail whiiiiich I think we all know, so.)





	I Could Be the Thing You Reach for in the Middle of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the most recent season, mostly canon compliant with a few smudges. :) This is a stupid thing I wrote when I should've actually been doing other writing so it's essentially a rough draft that I don't have the time/energy/whatever to revise and polish, so, *shrug*.
> 
> You get bonus queer points if you know what the title is from.

Derek Morgan doesn’t get nervous often. Two decades in law enforcement will have that effect on you. But as he stands outside Spencer’s apartment door, he feels a knot in his stomach and tastes copper in his mouth for the first time in a long time. He’s got a lot of conflicting emotions going on as he stares down Spencer’s apartment number, but they’re all drowned out by the persistence of his need to see the kid in one piece, to know that he’s okay.

Taking a shaky breath, he finally raises his fist to pound on the door and listens for activity on the other side. Hearing nothing, he knocks again and calls out, “Hey, Reid! Open the door, man.”

Another few seconds of silence, and as he raises his hand again he finally hears a shuffle on the other side of the door. Spencer opens it slowly and Derek takes him in. Spencer definitely looks different than the last time he saw him, almost a year ago. He’s got facial hair for perhaps the first time in the entire time they’ve known each other; his hair is a mess. He’s wearing just boxer briefs and a baggy black t-shirt, which on the one hand is not anything Derek hasn’t seen before, but also isn’t Spencer’s usual attire for greeting guests. There’s a dark bruise peeking out just above the collar of Spencer’s shirt that doesn’t go unnoticed by Derek. He sees that Spencer’s eyes are red as he rubs them, clearly having just rolled out of bed to open the door.

As they stand for an awkward moment staring at each other, Spencer’s facial expression gives off a faint hint of surprise, but more than anything else he just looks tired. Not just groggy from lying down, but  _tired_. Spencer isn’t really sure what you’re supposed to say to your best friend slash ex-lover after you’ve failed to inform him that you’ve been imprisoned for murder for several months, so he just looks at the older man expectantly, waiting for him to make the first move in their bizarre stand off. He wasn’t expecting the emotion and sadness that came over Derek’s face, or the way his voice cracks as he chokes out, “Why didn’t you let them tell me?”

Spencer runs a hand over his face and steps aside to let Derek walk in. “You know why,” he murmurs as he turns away from Derek to close and lock the door.

Derek takes a step closer, coming into Spencer’s personal space. He wants to reach out for him but isn’t sure if he’s allowed. “No, I don’t,” he replies.

“Because you couldn’t fix this, Derek, and it would’ve killed you. Because you would’ve come to see me, and I swear to God those inmates are better profilers than we are, and I didn’t need to be labeled a fag on top of everything else,” Spencer replied, with the eerily calm tone he often uses to talk about things that are in fact emotionally devastating to him.

“I could’ve helped the team. We could’ve found out who was framing you sooner, gotten you out of there,” Derek argued.

“That’s not your job anymore,” Spencer said, his brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“Spencer, God, Kid, I had a right to know,” Derek insisted.

Spencer sighed and his tone turned more impatient. “Did you really come over here to argue with me about this? Because not that this isn’t fun and everything, but…” he trailed off, looking down at the floor, too tired to bother finishing his thought.

“Shit. No, I just…” He paused. Derek was too tactile of a person; he needed to feel Spencer’s body, to know it was still warm and steady and whole. As he closed the space between them, he reached out for Spencer’s waist with one hand and gently tilted his head up with the other, forcing eye contact.“Are you okay?”

Spencer waits a few seconds before answering. It’s not that he’s unsure of the answer; simply unsure of which answer to give. No one knows Spencer better than Derek, but even still they usually wind up going through a complicated dance where Spencer denies his emotions for several rounds before finally relenting and speaking his mind. Right now, though, he doesn’t have the emotional reserves or the resolve to shut Derek out.

“No,” he whispers, so quiet Derek almost doesn’t hear it, as his eyes instantly start welling up.

Spencer sees his tears mirrored in the wetness of Derek’s eyes. The older man leans in closer, speaking in light murmurs. “Spencer… Fuck. I feel so useless. What can I do? What do you need?”

Spencer doesn’t respond, but instead leans fully against Derek, resting his head on his shoulder. Derek doesn’t waste a second before wrapping his arms fully around Spencer. They stand that way for a few full minutes before Spencer does something that shocks Derek, definitely not for the first time in their relationship. Before he has a chance to react, Spencer’s lips are on his, softly - so, so softly; the gentlest they have ever kissed. Slender fingers snake down to Derek’s hips and are pushing him backwards, further into the apartment, without their lips coming apart.

Derek kissed him back almost on instinct, their lips fitting together in a way that he’s been craving so often over the past year. Savannah is a total afterthought, a passing ship in his racing mind as he lets Spencer maneuver him without complaint to his bedroom.

As they stumble down the hallway, Spender breathes softly in between kisses, “What I need --- is to be touched --- by someone who’s not trying to kill me --- or…” Derek hearts breaks fully with each word Spencer’s speaks, but even then he’s not prepared for what Spencer whispers against his lips next: “Or trying to fuck me while I say no.”

In his surprise, Derek stumbles and feels himself fall back and slam against the wall in Spencer’s hallway. He pulls back and searches Spencer’s face. “No,” he says with determination, shaking his head, wishing that if he denies it with enough conviction then it simply won’t be true.

“Yes,” Spencer responds weakly.

He traces his thumb softly over Spencer’s cheek. “We don’t have to… Maybe you should… Do you want to talk about this? About what happened?”

Shaking his head with conviction, Spencer responds firmly, almost with sarcasm, “No, Derek, I don’t want to talk about what happened. I’m tired of talking… to Emily, to the team, to the bureau’s fucking shrink.” His hands started wandering across Derek’s chest and torso, inching closer to his belt as he tucked his face into Derek’s neck so that the older man could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. “I want to know that I can still do this.”

It never even crossed Spencer’s mind that Derek wouldn’t want this too; that he might say no, or might respect his vows to his family. Derek may be the dominant one in bed, but they both knew that Spencer always truly had the upper hand. Spencer had learned so young how to be alone, how to be self-sufficient, how to fill himself up in all the ways that no one else in his life could or was willing to. Derek was so helplessly in love with him, and needed that love in a way that Spencer simply didn’t. It wasn’t Derek’s choice to end their… whatever non-defined, implicitly non-exclusive, but emotionally-way-too-serious relationship they had. When Savannah got pregnant, Spencer broke things off abruptly and with finality. He wasn’t upset about the sexual extracurriculars - he didn’t doubt his ability to compete with Savannah for Derek’s love - but knew he could never compete with a son. So he didn’t.

Derek nodded in understanding, thinking about how starved Spencer must be for gentle touch, for affection; and spun them around so he was pushing Spencer backwards into the room at the end of the hall. He pushed Spencer down against the bed and wasted no time climbing over him, straddling his hips, and leaning down to reconnect their lips. He wasn’t motivated by desire, but by the need to feel Spencer against him after so much time apart and after the emotional tumult of knowing how close he could’ve been to losing him forever.

They stayed that way for longer than they ever had before - their clothes on, just kissing, lazy hands and tongues and breaths exploring. Derek wasn’t going to make the first move, but he does moan louder than he means to when he feels Spencer’s lips part against his. He’s eager to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue slide into Spencer’s mouth, retracing familiar ground. It feels like coming home.

Derek’s fingers haven’t touched an inch of flesh below Spencer’s belly button, but, finally, Spencer’s hands are doing what they hinted at earlier, finding Derek’s belt buckle. Derek lifts his hips up to give Spencer room to work, and the younger man quickly undoes the belt and unceremoniously shoves Derek’s pants and boxers down to mid-thigh before pulling him harshly back down. They both moan as their hips crash together.

Derek’s hand snakes up into Spencer’s hair and tugs - not too hard - just a hint of the way he used to fuck him before everything in their lives got so truly fucked up. “You gonna let me touch your cock, Pretty Boy?” he whispers into his ear, knowing that Spencer’s been hard under him for awhile now.

Spencer nods desperately.

Another tug. “Say it,” he snarls into the soft skin at Spencer’s neck.

They both know what he’s doing, fishing for explicit consent but trying his best to disguise it as dirty talk. Spencer exhales shakily, appreciating the gesture.

“Please, Derek,” he whines. “Please touch me.”

Derek finds Spencer’s lips again as he wrestles Spencer’s boxer briefs down just far enough to pull his cock out. They’re both so vulnerable right now, just two bodies of dangerously exposed nerve endings, Derek knows that they don’t have the patience or energy for a big production. He fumbles for some lube from the bedside table and uses his long fingers to grip both cocks and pump, setting a fast and frantic pace from the beginning.

Spencer arches his back to force them closer together, his breathing now shallow and rapid. He is usually surprisingly verbal in bed, but Derek feels the silence in the room as Spencer instead wraps his fists in Derek’s shirt and grips his teeth lightly on Derek’s collarbone.

For his part, Derek is usually a big talker, too, but he doesn’t have any words for _this_ , right now. His lips brush against Spencer’s earlobe as he just lets out a string of profanities, breathless from exertion and fulfilled desires.

Spencer signals that he’s close by shoving his tongue into Derek’s mouth and they both come quietly, shuddering against each other, their faces wet but they’re not sure from whose eyes.

….

They both finally finish undressing as Derek uses his shirt to clean them off quickly, and they settle in, Derek’s chest snugly against Spencer’s back, his arm wrapped tightly and possessively around the slender man’s waist. They lay still for several minutes, just listening to each other breathe. Despite the fact that it’s still light out, probably only four or five in the afternoon, Derek feels himself being tempted by sleep when he was surprised by the sound of Spencer’s voice.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” he whispers quietly.

Derek gives him a small squeeze. _Go on_.

“I’m… afraid to. I catch an hour here or there but… that’s it. I’m so scared of what will happen if I let my guard down for even a minute. I’m scared I’ll wake up in a Mexican police station again, or worse.”

Derek pulls them closer. “Sleep while I’m here, then. Sleep now, Spence. I’m here, I’ll keep you safe.”

“And tomorrow when you leave? And the night after that?” Spencer rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling as he talks. “It’s… what happened in jail… I barely even think about it. But it didn’t mean anything to me to get out. Because now I know that all of this-” Spencer gestures vaguely around him, indicating the apartment, his _home_ “-can be taken away anytime. That I can be cut off from the few people I have left in my life, that it can be so bad that even they can’t help me. I don’t feel safe ever, especially not here.”

Propping himself up on his elbow, Derek looks down at Spencer’s face longingly. “Then I’ll stay. I’ll stay every night and keep you safe so you can sleep. And I’m not letting anyone touch you again,” he murmurs reverently.

Spencer shakes his head. “No. No, I’m not… going to live in a fantasy, play house with you until you go back home. I have to learn how to live in this life now.”

“I don’t mean temporarily,” Derek replies.

“Yes you do,” Spencer insists, sitting up. “What, you’re going to leave your son to play nurse and coach me through my PTSD?” Spencer scoffs. “Yeah, that sounds like what you dreamed of when you retired from the BAU.”

“Yes, it does sound like exactly what I dreamed of,” Derek says with urgency. “I didn’t choose to end this, Kid, you did, and I think you’re finally starting to learn that you can’t push people away forever. Say the word, Spencer. Say it, and I’m here; I’m with you. And you can sleep in your own bed and you can know what safety feels like for the first time. Please.”

Spencer is still as a statue as he surveys Derek face, trying to decode his intentions. Finally, a long minute of aching silence later, he opens his mouth to respond.


End file.
